


Well Traveled

by Synodic



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Knotting, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sticky, cumflation, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synodic/pseuds/Synodic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift hadn't meant for his and Pipes' date night to move into a more heated direction, but he also didn't mind terribly much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Traveled

**Author's Note:**

> this got so far away from me omfg
> 
> (also RIP in pieces my goober butt for falling so hard for this rarepair)

This late in the cycle the observatory was usually completely devoid of people, most choosing to recharge, and those that weren’t made up the bare-struts crew running the ship. Drift, fortunately, had the night off and was making the most of it. 

His lap was filled with warm date-mate, and Drifts’ holoprojector was gently spinning above them, painting the entire room as a kaleidoscope of stars. Pipes shifted with a sigh, leaning further back into Drifts’ chest. 

“How many of these have you been to?” He asked softly, stroking his fingers over the polished arms wrapped around his waist. 

Drift hummed in thought, “A lot. Probably most.”

“Hmm.” 

“Why’d you ask?” Drift knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear Pipes talk. Even after all this time he was still a little shy, and sometimes needed a little prompting. It was cute.  _ Everything _ about Pipes was cute. He buried his nose in the back of Pipes' kibble, breathing in the smell of his wax as he listened. 

“I just wanna know more about you. About where you’ve been, what you’ve seen.” Pipes shrugged, “Maybe I could see some of those places too one day.”

“You will,” He promised, his hands wandering over Pipes' middle, stroking small seams. “I promise. You’ll see so many places you’ll get sick of it.”

Pipes laughed, squirming as Drift tickled him unintentionally, “I doubt it! How could I ever get sick of seeing places with  _ you _ .”

Drift was glad Pipes wasn’t facing him, so he didn’t have to hide the way his optics watered a little. If Pipes noticed how he squeezed him a little tighter, or that he had to reset his vocalizer, he had the good grace not to mention it. 

The two of them returned to watching the slowly rotating pins of light, content to just relax. Drift hadn’t even realized his hands had been wandering until he felt Pipes' vents hitch-- his fingers had wandered to a sensitive thigh seam, and while he hadn’t intended to move the evening in this direction, it was hard to resist the way the seam ran all the way up to Pipes' modesty panels. 

With a mischievous smirk, Drift let his fingers wander with purpose, following the slick lines up, until he could dip the tips into the hip joint. Pipes lurched with a giggle, squirming a little. 

“Drift!”

“You want me to stop?” He asked, his fingers slowing, but not stopping. 

“Not….exactly…” Pipes huffed, wriggling all up and down his front. “But we  _ are _ in a semi-public venue.”

“I don’t mind, if you don’t mind.” he punctuated the whisper in Pipes' audial by cupping his panels, fingers pressing against the nearly invisible seam. 

“I don’t mind!” he squeaked, arching into it. “Oh frag, Drift.” 

He hummed, kissing every part of him in reach-- which wasn’t much from this angle, but the upside was that he had a perfect vantage point to tease Pipes' wheels. One slow, long lick along the outer treads had the mech trembling, and the slow circle of his thumb over the leaking seam where his spike was hidden had his limbs going noodley. 

“I wanna see it,” Drift purred, his own interface array priming with a hot pang. “Can I?”

Pipes nodded, gasping as his spike sprung free. It was just like the rest of him; blue and white with purple accents and red lights. It fit perfectly in his hand, and it was all too easy to imagine riding it, how with just the right angle it would hit that one node along the top of his valve…

“Take off your mask,” he stroked with one hand, nice and slow, while he reached up and drummed against the mask in question. The last time he’d seen Pipes' face had been when they’d been making out, curled up in Pipes' bed, legs tangled. His lips had been so soft, and feeling them part when he’d overloaded, panels still closed, against Drift’s thigh had been one of the best things he’d ever experienced. 

Pipes' spike leaked against his hand as his suddenly bare face was kissing his fingers. A sly tongue extended to lick at the joints, and Drift shivered, his own fans clicking on with a soft hum. He couldn’t see Pipes’ expression from where he was, but he couldn’t feel it; the way his lips parted before he chewed on them to try and keep himself from crying out, how his jaw trembled, and nose crinkled as Drift’s thumb circled the head of his spike. 

“Are your eyes open, Pipes?” Drift kept a steady, slow rhythm, drawing soft pants and twitches from his frame. “Look up for me. I want you to keep watching the stars.”

“Kinda hard when you’re making me feel this good!” Pipes laughed, his own hands sliding down around Drifts thighs. Gentle fingers slid over waxed plating before cupping his tires, giving them a gentle squeeze. Charge zinged through Drift’s array and up his spine, his engine rumbling. Fondle with  _ his _ wheels, would he? Two could  play at that game.

“Drift, D-drift, oh Drift--” Pipes thrust up into Drift’s fist, arching into it as he nibbled on Pipes' wheel, scoring the rubber with fangs. His own spike panged in sympathy, his valve throbbing. They were both making a mess of each other and the observatory floor-- not that either of them were terribly bothered. He gasped when Pipes tilted his hips, smearing the lubricant of his valve over the hot metal of his spike panel.

“C’mon Drift-- I wanna see it. I want you to spike me.” Pipes gasped, “What’s a mech gotta do, huh?”

It took all of his willpower to keep his panels shut, “Pipes, not that I don’t mind but uhm..”

“Oh!” Pipes stopped, flailing a little as he tried to turn in his lap, “I’m sorry, if you’re not ready, we don’t have to!”

Drift snorted, his spark doing funny things in his chest. Pipes was so nice, so considerate. How could he say no, even if he wanted to?

“It’s not that, Pipes. I’m more than happy to spike you, honest! But before we do you gotta know about my specs.” 

“O-oh!” Pipes gulped, his face flushing and optics tracking down his frame, “Are you uhm. A-above average?”

Drift couldn’t help it- he laughed. It was so easy with Pipes, and it made his heart soar. 

“It’s a  _ legitimate question _ !” The smaller mech huffed, gently slapping his chest.

“I have a knotting mod, Pipes.” Drift wheezed, still huffing and snorting a little. “So I can still spike you, but unless you’re ready for it, I’m just going to need a little extra help finishing is all.”

“...holy frag,” Pipes licked his lips, and Drift could  _ feel _ his fans clicking up a notch. “Primus that’s the hottest-- I want it, I do, please, can we?”

Pipes bounced up and down, rubbing his valve enthusiastically over Drift’s panel. It was a struggle to keep his closed, and he could feel fluids sloshing behind the seams. He wanted nothing more than to indulge the mech writhing needily in his lap, however...

“Not here,” Drift said firmly, “It’s a bit...messy.”

“Okay, but my spike isn’t going down  _ any time soon _ \--”

Drift snickered, easing Pipes onto his back, “I can help with that.”

Pipes cried out and arched as Drift’s mouth slid over his spike, taking him deep in one smooth move. He fumbled for a place to keep his hand, and moaned when Drift grabbed it and put it on his head, directing him to push down. His vents shuddered, cooling fans clattering as he thrust up into Drift’s mouth. His tongue was wet and hot against the underside of Pipes' spike, the faint hint of teeth sent zings of electricity shooting up his spinal strut. 

Pipes made the mistake of opening his optics and looking down the length of his frame. Drift was watching him, and when their met eyes he hollowed out his cheeks, drawing up in one long suck. 

Drift’s spark throbbed with pride as Pipes’ frame came apart under him, arching and crackling with charge as transfluid shot down his throat. He swallowed quickly, humming and slurping as he pulled off with a pop. It’d done the trick at least-- his spike was slowly slipping back into its sheath. 

“Oh frag me,” Pipes groaned. 

“That’s the plan.” 

Pipes half-heartedly swiped at him. Drift dodged easily, and pulled several rags from his sub-space. By the time he had cleaned the both of them, the observatory floor, and packed away the star projector, Pipes was finally able to get to his feet.

“Yours’ or mine?”

“Mine,” Drift nodded, easing his arm around Pipes' waist, both to keep him close, and keep him steady. 

 

The trip down the hall was rather quick- Drift’s place wasn’t terribly far from the observatory, and by the time they arrived at the door to his hab, Pipes was leaning on him more for the contact than the need for support. His lines were buzzing with faint charge; it would take almost nothing for him to get revved up again. Drift, on the other hand, had only gotten warmer. There were so many things he wanted to do with Pipes,  _ to Pipes _ . Or have Pipes do to him. It had been a long time since he’d been able to trust somebody to even imagine surrendering to someone. But he wanted to. 

It seemed like ages before the door to his hab slid open, letting the two of them stumble in. Pipes slipped out from under his arm and over to the berth, where he sprawled out on it, luxuriating in the soft sheets. “Oh, these are nice.”

“You think so?” Drift dawdled by putting away his swords, enjoying the vision of Pipes laid out in his berth. 

“It’d be nicer if  _ you _ were laying on them too,” He snickered, biting his lower lip and patting the berth-matt beside himself. What Pipes failed to achieve in seduction, he made up for in just being plain adorable.

Drift was about to tease back when he saw that the cheeky slagger had his panels open again already, his valve glistening with lubricant. Pipes noticed his stare (had he been staring? Oh, yes, he had been.) and grinned, slowly parting his legs. 

“If you don’t get over here I’m going to start getting myself off without you.”

“That’s hardly a threat when I like watching.” Still, Drift was spurred into action, and he crawled onto the berth with fluid grace. His fingers trailed a slow and steady line up Pipe’s leg, starting at his feet, then up and over his knee, before spreading out over a thigh. 

“I’m going to prep you first,” Drift said, hovering over Pipes. “If you’re going to take my knot, you’re going to have to be able to take most of my hand. And when I fill you with my transfluid, there’s going to be  _ a lot _ of it.”

Drift tracked the rising flush of Pipe’s face, and felt the sharp gust of air as his vents tried to expel the warmth of his frame. 

“Primus it’s so hot when you talk like that,” Pipes adjusted until he was laying flat on his back, legs spread open and welcoming. “You should… you should do that more. Please?”

“I will then, when my mouth isn’t busy.” 

He winked as he slithered down Pipes’ frame until he was level with his valve, wasting no time before diving right in. A long lick over the dewy valve lips had his lover arching, and another had him trying to buck up into Drift’s mouth. Pipes hands fisted the berth sheets as he writhed. 

“Oh you’re so...you’re s-so  _ good _ at this, it isn’t f-fair!”

Drift smirked, enjoying the loud squeal that erupted from Pipes as he sucked on his anterior node at the same time he thrust two fingers into his valve. He nipped and sucked at the plush lips of his valve while he thrust his digits, curling against nodes and coaxing charge to rise. He shuttered his optics to focus on the smell and taste of him, and startled when he felt gentle hands caressing his finials. Now who wasn’t being fair?

He moaned into Pipes’ valve, his hips grinding into the berth, trying to gain some friction. Somewhere along the way his own valve panel had snapped open, and the chill of the hab-suite air brushing over his exposed array made him shiver. A third finger eased its way in and Pipes whimpered, arching into a small overload. Drift eased off of his anterior node and slowly sat up, watching as he gently pushed that fourth finger into Pipes’ valve, eased along by the gush of fluids his overload had produced. 

“How ya doing up there?”

“This is what I want the Well to be like,” Pipes sighed, reaching out and making grabby hands for him, “Come on, surely I’m stretched enough now. Get that pretty face of yours up here so I can smooch it while you frag me through your fancy berth.”

“Romantic.” He snorted, but obeyed, trailing kisses that were wet with Pipes’ valve lubricant all the way up to his face. Kissing him then felt just as good as the last time, and the first time. He couldn’t imagine when it  _ wouldn’t _ feel good. 

Pipes’ legs curled around his waist, tugging him closer encouragingly. His spike panels clicked open, and with a relieved sigh the hard length emerged from its recess to rub against Pipes’ valve. The kiss was put on hold as they both moaned, the feel of Drift’s spike sliding through his fat, slick valve lips felt amazing to them both. 

“Aw, don’t make me beg, c’m o-O H!”

Drift’s spike slid halfway into his valve in one smooth stroke, and inched further in with each gentle thrust. He took it slow; while he’d prepped Pipes plenty, and his datemate’s valve was incredibly slick, hurting him was the last thing he wanted to do. 

Finally he bottomed out, and took a moment to just bask in the feeling of the wet warmth clenching tightly around his spike. Pipes’ hand circled around the nape of his neck, gently squeezing and fingering the interlocking plates that ran up his spinal strut to the base of his helm. He purred and gently rolled his hips; Pipes pushed back, arching up to greet his thrust, and it became a to and fro of sinuous motion. 

“Harder,” Pipes whispered, “ _ Harder _ .”

It was easy to comply, to thrust as deep as he could get into his valve with each quick thrust. Their vents were pouring heat into the room around them, fans clattering in their stays as charge and the resulting heat mounted. 

Drift curled around him, holding him close with his face buried in his neck as he pounded away, reveling in the little hitches and gasps he drew from Pipes as the tip of his spike kissed the apex of his valve. Pipes' fingers peeled up paint as they dragged down his back, and that only encouraged him more. A small adjustment of the angle had Pipes howling, his valve gushing and flexing in overload, trying to pull him deeper. 

He wasn’t far behind. His spike was starting to catch on the rim, his knot swelling at the base as the crest of his climax approached. “Pipes,” he groaned, kissing the corner of his mouth, “Pipes!” 

“Do it. Please, Drift, I wanna feel you.” 

How could he resist? 

He he buried himself as deep as he could get on his next thrust, his knot swelling to its full width just inside Pipes’ rim. Drift groaned as his overload tore through his lines like fire; the first gush of transfluid filled Pipes' valve completely, the next had his overflow tank spiraling open to catch the flood of transfluid. The mech wheezed and gasped under him with each addition to his tanks, each twitch of his spike heralding another jet of hot fluids. Drift groaned, shaking, his mouth hanging open as he panted against Pipes' plating, fogging the metal. 

“Oh primus, how much..how much left is there?”

“Not much.” Drift’s hand slapped at the bed until he found Pipes' hand, fingers lacing together and squeezing. He was just beginning to feel the swell of Pipes' belly against his own. “You doin’ okay?”

“Y-yeah just...oh wow. Drift, sweetspark, that feels so… so....” He shivered, both of them groaning as the rim of his valve fluttered over the rigid knot in a small overload. Drift didn’t need a readout to know that he was almost empty; the small, hot bursts were slowing down between intervals. Pipes' plating was a little distended, hot to the touch where it bowed outward under the volume of transfluid. 

Pipes was shaking and panting under him, plating hot and slick with condensation. He was close to overloading again, if Drift was reading him accurately. With a smirk he peppered Pipes' jaw and neck with kisses as he rolled his hips, grinding his knot in slow circles. His vocaliser blurted static in Drift’s audial, devolving into tiny beeps as each roll of his hips pushed Pipes’ next overload higher. Their fingers squeezed together so tight the joints creaked, and when Pipes overloaded it was with a binary wail. The smaller mech went strutless as the charge dispersed, well and truly worn out. Drift indulged himself with reaching between them to stroke the hard swell of Pipes’ middle. It was warm and soft, and Drift couldn’t help the contented purr starting in his chassis. 

Pipes recovered a little and shifted-- while Drift was prepared to pin him in case he tried to pull off, it seemed that all he wanted was to settle deeper into his berth. He was okay with that. 

“You comin’ back?”

“Mmnuh,” Pipes mumbled, nodding. “I have never felt so good in my life.” 

Pride and fondness warmed Drift’s spark to an almost unbearable degree. He wanted to curl up tighter, to nestle himself into Pipes’s shoulder and just breathe him in, but that would’ve meant not watching his face as his optics slowly reopened. 

Pipes reached up after a moment, gently stroking Drift’s face, “Gosh you’re pretty.”

Drift spluttered, and this time did bury his face in his neck, finials burning as Pipes laughed.


End file.
